


No Longer a Work Horse

by gracca_amorosa



Category: The Expanse (TV), The Expanse Series - James S. A. Corey
Genre: Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:08:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26807119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gracca_amorosa/pseuds/gracca_amorosa
Summary: “It’s ok to be broken,” Amos said eventually. “You just gotta find people that can hold you together again is all.”
Relationships: Alex Kamal/OMC
Comments: 4
Kudos: 13





	No Longer a Work Horse

**Author's Note:**

> This truly is a gratuitously self-indulgent self-insert situation. I love Alex Kamal but HATE Cas Anvar and wanted desperately to write something good about Alex being truly the sweetest guy in the world, to divorce him fully from Cas Anvar's shitty, shitty actions. 
> 
> Otherwise: this pulls mostly from the show but some from the books. I tried my best, and I hope you like it. There's discussion of violence and sex trafficking, so don't read if you don't like that part.

He looked around hastily and warily at the ships and their crews that were lined up at the dock. A small part of him also kept track behind, listening for commotion that might find its way to him, after what he had done. Luckily, so far, there was none; he had covered his tracks well enough for the time being. 

Engines from some scattered ships went off muffled and quiet behind all the airlocks, coming and going as they pleased. That was what he needed, too, but there were so many men crammed in around these ships that he didn’t know what to make of it, didn’t know if any of them would suit him. He looked for someone, anyone, that wasn’t an ill-disguised conman with a glint of cold hunger in their eyes, edging around the inner ring of the dock until finally – a woman, tall and unafraid, with a large man looking intently at her before nodding and going off on whatever errand she needed him to do. She looked around herself comfortably, a Belter if he had to guess. That was who he needed to see.

Before he could move forward, two other men came out of the airlock and he hesitated briefly – but they both looked harmless enough. Or at least, he thought he could take either of them in a fair or unfair fight if he needed to. They both looked kindly, though somewhat guarded here on the Tycho, which he understood completely. One, the lithe one, kissed the woman gently, while the other raised an easy hand for a brief farewell. The two of them were headed towards him, so he scooted around some more, and looked away – watching their backs to make sure they kept going. He glanced quickly over at the woman – she was back in the airlock, looking at her hand terminal, and he knew he had a chance.

Quickly he darted out from his hiding spot, trying not to look desperate or threatening, both of which he was, dodging around the mill of Belters and signs advertising booze and food and beds and sex. He looked at the woman and walked with a straight back, and eventually caught her eye as he approached. The woman turned off her hand terminal and put it down the front of her jumpsuit – shocking, how even now pockets were not in every uniform.

“Hello,” the woman said cheerily but carefully, with a faint Belter accent, “how can I help you?”

“You lookin for workers, yeah?” he responded, letting his Belter slang slip in more than he had in a while, hoping this would endear him to his countryman.

“Das why we are here, yeah,” the woman said with a smile, responding in kind. “Need someone who can do engineering, or medical. Either are helpful, right now.”

He tugged his sleeves down over his wrists. “Can do both,” he said with confidence. “Trained for engineering on many ships, can give you logs if you want, trained with medical more… informally, but dealt with my share of wounds. No training like battlefield training, I suppose.” He returned her smile, hoping He was looking inviting and not desperate. “I can also cook pretty well, if that sweetens the deal – I can work miracles with soy protein.” This he said with less accent – he had learned to cook at the hands of Earthers and Martians who wanted their soy to taste like terrestrial food, and he had learned many tricks from them, and associated the task with them more than anything. 

The woman looked him over, catching the scar that went straight up from the side of her top lip, the one right below her eye, following the curve of cheekbone. He tried to make himself taller, clasp his hands behind his back but that was a hard task from years of damage to his joints, so he settled with hands on hips, and a hopefully easy smile. This quick adjustment made the woman smile, and she reached out a hand. 

“Name’s Naomi Nagata,” she said, “and this is the Rocinante.” They shook hands, and he felt relief run through him. “Have three other crew, you’ll meet them tonight when we get ready to launch. Meantime, if you need to get your stuff, go ahead and meet me back here. I can show you where you’ll be sleepin’ at least. You are?”

“Caleb,” he said, and Naomi’s eyes flicked over him again. “How do you feel about plants?” This sudden question made Naomi laugh, the juxtaposition silly to Caleb too.

“We have some as air scrubbers but they do take up oxygen so we usually don’t bring aboard anything that’s not efficient in that way. You have one you’d like to bring?” The explanation was what Caleb had expected but Naomi seemed curious, so he mentioned the little indoor garden he was cultivating, and his wish to bring one small reminder of that place. This made Naomi cock her head, once again curious, but he was banking on the hope that a fellow Belter would understand the need to pick up and leave without warning. It was also a lie – he had not been aboard Tycho long enough to do any sort of gardening except this one neglected plant that his current roommate insisted on keeping, that he felt sorry for. They seemed to be kindred spirits, and Caleb couldn’t help himself.

“As long as it’s small, one should be fine,” she said with a nod. “Go ahead and get it, and we can figure it out before launch, that ok?”

“Perfect.” He sighed with relief and shook Naomi’s hand before going to gather his scant things.

He had left a duffel of stuff with a friend, a stranger one might say from the outside except she could be trusted to be discreet. She did not know why Caleb was leaving the station already or why he was leaving so suddenly, and did not ask. When Caleb returned for the bag, she didn’t even look up from the news crawling across the screen – right now all boring little Belter crimes and grievances. 

“See you round,” is all she said as Caleb left with the bag and a wrinkly looking ficus with a few new leaves.

As he pushed through the crowded door to the docks he searched out Naomi’s face, and almost turned when he saw her talking to that meat slab of a man from earlier. He didn’t want to talk to anybody until he was safely ensconced on the ship – harder to scrape off a barnacle than prevent one from growing in the first place – but before he had made up his mind Naomi was waving him over and telling him to meet Amos.

Amos did not smile, barely moved at all except for a nod of the head, which Caleb returned. They stared at one another for a moment before Amos finally said, “I like him, he’s quiet,” and stalked into the ship. Naomi looked at him apologetically and explained that that was just how Amos was, that he was kind underneath it all. Caleb’s eyebrows rose questioningly, but he did end up following Naomi into the Rocinante with little hesitation. If Naomi was fine around the man, then surely Caleb would be too – he knew how to fight better than almost everyone he’d ever fought, after all. 

There was no sign of the other two at least, which was a small blessing. They were deposited on a middle deck, and Naomi pointed up for the pilot and command deck, down for everything else, which is where she led them now. Down a few more flights of stairs Naomi pointed out a bunch of stuff that Caleb decided would be impossible to remember right away, then a brief tour of the galley and then crew quarters. Below them was only the cargo bays and one last engineering level, including the Epstein Drive and a good bit of the life support equipment.

“I’ll show you round all that after you drop off your things,” Naomi said, gesturing towards a door that opened with a hiss. 

The Rocinante was a Martian Navy vessel, which Caleb only knew because it and its old name, Tachi, was sprinkled over equipment and signs like targets, but these quarters were more spacious than anything he had ever been on. Naomi watched him poke around with a knowing smile; it was probably nicer than any place Naomi had ever lived in, too. 

“Martians sure know how to live, eh?” Caleb said, turning to smile at Naomi.

“Wait ‘til you try the coffee,” Naomi replied, and for the first time Caleb was, perhaps, excited to be on this particular ship. 

While Caleb and Naomi were down looking through the life support systems, voices started filling up the floors above, filtering down quietly but seemingly cheerful.

“The boys are home,” Naomi said, looking up towards the noise. “How bout we go meet them now?” She said it like a question, one that Caleb almost turned down, but he made himself nod instead, jaw clenched tight. Another look of recognition flitted across Naomi’s face and she leaned in close. “They’re all very nice, I promise. Nicer than Amos, to be sure, and he’s still pretty good. It’s ok if it takes time to get used to.” Caleb just nodded again and followed Naomi up the ladder to the galley floor.

Two men were sitting at the galley table, the third standing at the counter intently chopping what looked (and smelled) like fresh vegetables, something Caleb had not had in what felt like months. What probably was months. He looked at the man’s back but he didn’t turn as he chopped, and did not stop talking either, telling some story about growing up on Mars.

“It’s a hell of a thing, watching clouds floating around after being told for years and years that we can’t go outside,” the man’s Mariner Valley accent was thick and cowboyish, and it took Caleb a moment to figure out what he was saying. “You’re like three, four years old and grow up seeing all these happy people on screens out in a lush, blue Mars and you don’t know why your mom won’t let you out the airlock- “

“What the fuck is this?” the big man – Amos – interrupted, not meanly Caleb thought but because he just, right now, needed to know about the plant that Caleb had deposited on the galley table as they walked through earlier. The man at the counter stopped chopping and turned, finally realizing that new people had joined them.

“Oh, hi!” he said cheerily just as Caleb said “Ficus,” alarmed that all eyes were now on him, and quickly shut his mouth again. The cooking man waited just a moment, enthusiasm never wavering, before he rounded the table and offered him his non-knife hand. “I’m Alex,” he said when Caleb took his hand, “pilot of the Roci here. You our new…” he paused a moment, brow furrowing. “Recruit? We have a fair few vacancies to fill, which one are you?” 

“Caleb,” said Caleb, swallowing hard and letting Alex’s hand go as quickly as possible. “I think I’m doing a little bit of everything.” He looked to Naomi for guidance, but one of the other men spoke up first.

“I’m Jim Holden,” he said without proffering a hand, just nodding at him. Alex took his cue and backed away towards the counter again, chopping resuming without comment. “I’m the captain. You know how to fix bullet wounds and comms equipment?” 

Caleb nodded, once. “And more,” he said quietly but firmly.

“Good,” Holden said with another nod. “Welcome to the Rocinante. D’you like lasagna? Cause I think that’s all Alex knows how to make.”

Alex turned at this and began to recite all the ‘Kamal family recipes’ he had stored away in his brain, but when Caleb said he had never had lasagna before that made him pause.

“Well hell,” he said finally, “guess it’s good I’m using real ingredients this time then.” 

Naomi gestured them to a chair and the two of them sat down.

Caleb could smell a secret when he met one, and this crew smelled like secrets. The captain at least was an Earther and the pilot was from Mars, and Naomi was pure Belt. Amos was definitely not Belter but he didn’t offer any clues as to where he hailed from. He was curious as to how they had all come into possession of a Martian gunship but he but didn’t ask, cause he were pretty sure at least Amos could smell secrets too and it was way too early to be sharing. 

Soon enough the lasagna was done and Alex was joining them all at the table, right across from Caleb, and he dished out the five portions with practiced ease from a pan shaped like a maze.

He leaned in conspiratorially when he saw Caleb looking at the maze. “The edge bits are the best bits,” he whispered to him with a wink. He took the proffered slice and could feel himself growing warm. The conversation continued on around him with practiced ease, nobody making Caleb join in, and for now he was content just listening to their natural rhythm. The lasagna was indeed good, maybe the best meal he had had in living memory, and he made sure to tell Alex that at least. Alex looked more than pleased with himself and promised to outdo himself next time.

He waited what he hoped was a reasonable amount of time after finishing before excusing himself, claiming to be tired which was true in a certain way, because of the growing crush of people rather than the need for sleep. Everyone said good night except Amos, who just nodded, and Caleb knew (hoped) that he and Amos would get along.

“We leave tomorrow morning,” Alex said as Caleb stood. “I’ll make an announcement well before so we can get everything secured. You’ll want to join us up on the Bridge.” His easy smile confused Caleb, but he nodded as he walked away.

All of them were, in fact, very easy to be around for a while, but the crush of men still overwhelmed him there at the end. He had never seen a smile so genuinely kind as Alex’s had been, or experienced the ease of which these men listened to Naomi and took her seriously. He knew he grew up in a particularly bad part of the Belt, Ceres station being full of crime and cops and sometimes those were the same thing, and full of men who hated everyone else. He knew that many ship’s captains and Navy commanders were women, and people listened to them all the time without hesitation. He laid awake in bed for a good long while, just thinking about the crew and trying to catalog them amongst all his crews before, and finally fell asleep being mildly hopeful about the whole situation.

_ _ _ _ _

Caleb woke to Alex on the comms, announcing their departure in one hour, so get your shit in order, kids. He slid out of bed and quickly into the jumpsuit Naomi gave to Him – it was colder on this ship than he had been in a good long while so he appreciated the extra clothes, but the jumpsuit was too short in the arms and too wide around the middle. He pulled the top part down and knotted the arms around his waist instead, wearing the same shirt he had slept in for now. He would deal with the cold.

Being crammed together on Ceres and then Tycho, the spaciousness of the Rocinante was more than he knew what to do with. He climbed down first, checking out what was to be his primary domain on the Engineering deck, making sure all the right lights were green and all the right switches were flipped, before – excitedly, he had to admit to himself – he hopped back up the ladders to the command deck. 

Naomi and Amos were bent over one monitor while Holden was at his own, and Alex was pacing the pilot’s deck, headphones on and seemingly paying no attention except to give 

Caleb a smile and a wave before looking at his own screen.

“Caleb, c’mere and I’ll show you how all this works, just in case you gotta know later.” Holden gestured to him and he looked back over his shoulder at Naomi. 

Quietly when he reached him he said, “Is she – is Naomi – not the captain?” Holden smiled delicately, not meanly, and nodded. 

“She’s in charge, at least as much as any of us are. She’s got a level head. She and Amos are checking out…” he hesitated, but only for a second. “Our flight itinerary. I’m just gonna show you all our readouts real quick. Is that ok?” He looked at Caleb like he wanted a genuine answer, and he nodded. 

Holden ran him through life support readings and maps of the space around them and sensors on all kinds of things, told him how to recognize a drive signature, showed him how to open and close the airlocks (“ONLY in case of emergency,” he made sure to say, and he was not sure why he felt the need to say it.)

“I won’t be able to remember all this,” he whispered to him, nervous now. “I’m not good at this technical part, just… just the fixing, whatever fixing you might need.” He was prepared to keep justifying himself but Holden held up a hand.

“You don’t have to worry about remembering it all right now. We got a while to go on this trip, there’ll be lots of time to look it over again. Did Naomi tell you where we were going?”

“No,” Caleb responded quickly. “The where was not my biggest concern. It was the when, more than anything.” Holden nodded, and without any more words being exchanged some sort of agreement was made. Holden would not ask Caleb what he was running from, Caleb would not ask what mysterious voyage he had signed up for. 

Naomi and Amos had finished their review and both nodded at Caleb when they turned. They looked tense, but Caleb did not want to ask, not now that he and Holden and come to their agreement. So he just nodded back.

The four of them strapped down into large, swiveling chairs as Alex called out T-Minus Two Minutes. Caleb looked forward at his screen tensely, this being only the second time he had ever flown before, and a small message popped up on the screen in front of him. It read, You’ll be fine. You’re safe with me and the Roci. She’s a good girl and I trust her. 

It was signed ‘Trust me? Alex.’ Caleb looked up at him and saw him peering down, strapped into his own chair and still wearing his headphones, and he nodded at the pilot. Alex nodded back, smiling just a little. Caleb turned away again quickly, not sure what feeling was pushing up from deep in his guts, and when Alex called liftoff Caleb was glad for something to distract himself.

When they were safely out of orbit, Caleb ventured down to the galley and poked around at the coffee maker excitedly. He had also never had real coffee before, only the cheapest Belter knockoff that Ceres had to offer, but he didn’t say that to anyone; they all spoke of it like a magical elixir, like a cure-all, like medicine. He was shocked when he finally took a sip of it that it was just a bitter brown liquid that he could barely stomach. He looked at the cup with disgust, unsure of what to do with it now. It seemed wasteful just to drop it back down the drain.

“Put sugar in it,” said Amos from behind him. He turned, almost letting the cup go and clutching his beating heart.

“What?” he said quickly, meaning both what do you mean and what do you think you’re doing?

“If you put sugar and milk in it it’ll taste way better.” He grabbed the cup from Caleb’s hand and went first to the narrow fridge and then to a cabinet, and then handed him back a more cream-colored concoction.

Caleb took it to be polite, but Amos saw his hesitation. Amos’s eyes widened microscopically and Caleb realized he was recognizing the fear of being given a drink by a stranger.

“I didn’t put anything in there, nothing dangerous, I mean,” he said in the same flat tone as always but gentler, still. He sipped the coffee first, before sliding it across the table towards Caleb. This time Caleb was surprised to find that he did like it, much more than before.

They stood and stared at one another for a while, not talking but not really wanting or needing to, before Alex bustled in and the brief spell of comraderie was broken. Amos nodded first to Alex and then to Caleb, and sauntered off, up the nearby ladder. Alex looked over his shoulder as Amos left, then to Caleb.

“Did I interrupt?” he asked in his thick accent.

Caleb started. “Oh- no, sorry,” he apologized instinctively. He had just been looking at the pilot, thinking about the message he had sent a few hours before.

“You don’t gotta apologize,” he said with a crooked little smile, a genuine smile. Everything about Alex was genuine, Caleb though. He didn’t know if the man would be capable of telling a lie, but that was a dangerous assumption to make. “I should be the one apologizing, for breaking up your party.”

“He fixed my coffee,” Caleb said, holding out the almost-empty cup for Alex to see the milky remnants. “I’ve never had the real thing before, I didn’t know it would be so…”

“Bad?” Alex finished with a smile, and Caleb found himself smiling too.

“Yes, bad.”

“It’s good for keeping you awake, or getting you awake, but not much else,” he said as he busied himself getting food out of the small fridge. “You want some?”

“Oh,” Caleb started. He wasn’t sure. 

“Easy enough to heat up two plates. I’ll get you some, no problem.”  
He stared at Alex’s back as he carefully removed lasagna from his maze-pan, then slid two plates into the microwave. He turned and propped himself up by his elbows on the counter, looking Caleb over for a moment, making Caleb blush. Quickly Alex looked away, clearly knowing he had made a mistake, not knowing how to correct himself.

“I’ve mostly only had protein, or the boring real food that they give Belters, whatever it is keeps us alive but not fulfilled, you know? I learned to make it edible, that’s part of why Naomi let me on the ship I think.” Caleb looked at Alex, hoping he would accept this way out that he was offering.

“I did twenty years in the Martian Marines,” Alex said, looking back at Caleb finally. “Only thing we ate for most of that twenty was protein. It was a lucky day when we got real food. Then, on the Cant – the Canterbury, our ship before this – when we were hauling ice it was protein all the time. My family knew how to cook, I learned how to cook for real when I was real young, but haven’t had nearly enough opportunities to do it.”

“The Kamal family recipes?” Caleb said, smiling.

Alex nodded. “I can teach them to you if you like. Nobody else wants to learn, Amos just doesn’t like to cook, Jim and Naomi know how already and just don’t feel like learnin’ anything new.”

“I would love to learn,” Caleb said, and couldn’t help but be a little bit excited. He looked at this kind man and it took a little bit too long for the other thing he had said to register.

“Wait – the Canterbury? As in, ‘remember the Cant?’” 

Alex hesitated, but then nodded, a concerned wrinkle cutting between his brows. Caleb knew then that he would be a dog-shit liar when it came down to it.

“Yeah, that was… that was us.” Alex swallowed and looked down at his clasped hands.

“Knew Holden looked familiar for some reason,” Caleb said, realizing finally that he did, and he had just brushed it off. “What the fuck happened, then?” Caleb asked, and learned that if Alex couldn’t lie, he at least knew when to shut up. Alex shook his head, and didn’t speak for once.

Caleb nodded in return. “That’s fair,” he said. “I don’t really need to know, do I?” Alex shook his head again. “I agreed to this job no matter what, I can keep my questions to myself.” Caleb nodded, this time to himself. The microwave dinged. They both jumped just a little.

Alex slid Caleb his plate and they sat at the table and talked about other things, pretending like Alex hadn’t just messed up by mentioning the Cant, and pretending like Caleb wasn’t now burning to know where they were going, and why. Alex talked sadly about his family, who he had not told about his survival, about how much he missed Mars but when he was on Mars how much he missed the sky. He talked about all the little bits of the Rocinante that he had discovered, talked about the ship like it was a person, talked about how flying made him feel alive. Caleb knew that as long as he kept interest and didn’t interrupt with his own stories, Alex would go on like this for a long time. And Caleb let him, enjoying his Martian drawl and his excitement over every little thing.

Eventually he did begin running out of steam, and did ask Caleb about himself, but this time Caleb offered up at least a frame of his own life. He spoke fondly of his mother, who taught him how to cook, and about her death. How he was taken in by an uncle, and told him at least that the uncle was not kind, but left out the other parts. Alex, he thought, could tell there were gaps in the narrative but didn’t ask, and for that he was grateful. He said he ran away from home, lived grasping for handouts on Ceres, finding odd jobs, before eventually running away to Tycho too. He said his trade hoping that Alex would understand without having to be told, and he thought that he did. But he could not make himself speak any plainer about it, to make sure. He didn’t want to sully himself too directly to this cheerful man, did not dare ruin his ebullience with his own dark smear.

When Holden and Naomi came laughing loudly into the galley, Both Caleb and Alex jumped at the interruption. They had been finished eating for a long time, had been talking easily for what felt like hours, and Caleb was so glad that Holden and Naomi did not seem to notice both of them startling, and that it was enough of a distraction for Caleb to get up and go to the sink, so he would have even just a moment to collect himself.

He waved bye to the three of them and headed up towards where Naomi had pointed out the gym, hoping for some distraction but ultimately finding none, no matter how much he ran or punched or lifted. He felt muddled, panicked, nervous. Alex’s face kept coming back to him, how attentive he had been, how kind. He still didn’t think he could trust any of these people fully, didn’t know if he would ever be able to, but for at least as long as they were talking, Caleb trusted Alex.

_ _ _ _ _

After a few days Caleb learned that they were headed towards Eros Station at the behest of Fred Johnson, once an Earth hero and now a hero to the OPA. Eros was a place he had heard of vaguely because it was a large station but he had no idea what it was like otherwise. It was, according to Amos, a shit-heap. Even after learning their destination, though, he was still not told why they were going. He spent a lot of time down in Engineering, just getting a feel for the ship, Alex’s insistence on calling it sweetheart making him, too, think of the thing as more animal, at least, than machine. Everything in the place ran smoothly, and his job was, mostly, easy. 

Eros was not easy. It was a massacre, and Caleb was not sure any of them would get out alive, but somehow they all did, with a guy called Miller. A Star Helix ex-cop that surely would have heard about what Caleb had done if not that he was involved, Miller worried him at first. He could almost see a flicker of recognition in Miller’s eyes whenever they got close, but after a few days of Miller saying nothing Caleb figured he would be safe enough for now. 

Caleb had nightmares about Eros. He was sure they all did, except maybe Amos, who seemed immune to fear. They gathered closer to one another, spent more time with each other. They exchanged information with Miller about why they were there in the first place and made some sort of plan about ‘the Julie Mao situation’ that Caleb only sort of understood, but before that they needed to pick up some jobs and were hoping to get those from Fred Johnson. They were all poor as hell now, and if they wanted to stay on Tycho for any length of time they needed to work. Fred had offered to pay their way while they were under his heel, and while they took him up on that as far as room and board went, Holden – and the rest of them, truth told – did not want to be any more beholden to Fred and the OPA than necessary

On the way back to Tycho from Eros, Caleb took to singing while he was alone: old-world songs that Belters still sang, that his mother sung to him when she was still alive. Songs that he had been singing for years to comfort himself. 

He had sung these songs for so long that he knew a whole hymnal’s worth by heart, and he sang them as loud as he wanted, for the first time in his life – at least while he was in Engineering. He ate his meals with the others at least some of the time, he learned to be relaxed at least in a locked room, alone. He learned that he was okay, now, at least for the most part.

After a couple of days travel towards Tycho, Alex slid himself down the ladder to Engineering and sat on the bottom rung as best he could, yelling for Caleb to keep going when he faltered in his song. Alex had talked about visiting him in Engineering before but had not yet done it. He assumed the pilot, who had his headphones on and going at almost all times when he was not in the galley or doing something else with the crew, finally heard a song he took a particular interest in. He at least finished out the song he was in the middle of, somewhat subdued by having an audience but relieved that he was not being told to stop.

“I’ve never heard that before, what is it?” he asked when Caleb had stopped. 

“Don’t know if it has a proper name, I just know the words,” he replied, and it was true. “Not sure of the names of any of them.”

“I’ve never heard Belter music like that before,” Alex said quietly, contemplatively. “Just the loud stuff like Naomi likes, mostly.” He smiled up at Caleb and Caleb remembered the angry music coming from Naomi’s quarters or wherever she was fixing components at the time.

“It’s the more traditional stuff stuff my mom knew, other older people too, you know?” Alex nodded and smoothly slid himself back to his feet.

“I’ve been listening to you, you know. You’re really good.” He walked towards Caleb, hands in his pockets and the easy smile there as always. This openness, forwardness, made Caleb blush.

“I’m nothing, really, just wanted… a little bit of home.” He flicked his eyes up to Alex.

“I understand fully,” he said, leaning in towards Caleb just a little. “That’s what I came to talk to you about, actually.” He tapped the headphones that were hanging around his neck. “A cultural exchange, of sorts, if that suits you.” 

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you sing to me, show me some of your Belter songs, and I share some of my Martian ones with you.” He spread his arms wide as he talked, almost touching either side of the maintenance corridor they were in.

“I can’t do that,” Caleb said without thinking, and was disappointed at his own words. Disappointed by how disappointed Alex looked for just a minute before perking up again.

“Aw, well, that’s okay, friend,” he said, clasping his hands in front of him. “I just hope you keep singing still. You have a good voice, and a hell of a lot of emotion.” Alex’s eyes flicked to Caleb’s, and his smile made the corners of his eyes crinkle up. Before he could move, Caleb reached out and touched his elbow. 

“No, I mean, I will,” he said, trailing off as Alex looked down at him. 

“You don’t have to do anything if it makes you feel uncomfortable,” he said softly.

“I would like to do a cultural exchange with you,” he said, realizing as he said it that it sounded dumb as hell. “I like hearing new songs, ‘specially if I can sing them, and I think I can sing yours too.” He let go of Alex’s elbow, finally, and Alex turned around, slipping his hands into his pockets.

“Singing these ol’ Martian tunes is good for the soul, friend,” he said. “How about after lunch?” 

“Can it be… down here?” Caleb asked, gesturing loosely, and Alex laughed but nodded. “See you then,” he said with a wave.

Caleb tried to avoid everyone for the rest of the morning, his nerves frayed more than he thought they should be. He bolted his lunch quickly before scampering back down to what he had started to consider his own domain, back in the circular maintenance corridor with screens and fuses lining either side. He pretended to look through all the readouts like Holden had taught him, but nothing was processing other than what song he would give to Alex when he arrived. The choice seemed important, even though he was sure it wasn’t really. Even though he was sure Alex was just being polite.

But none of the others had made this much of an effort to include him. They were all nice to him, polite, and Amos had posited that they were close to the same person, but it was 

Alex that recommended books to read, Alex that suggested shows to watch, Alex that asked questions about his songs.

He was just walking back and forth when Alex finally descended the ladder, and when he saw him all thoughts left his brain. It was replaced by fear, mostly; he wasn’t sure why, but he was now, very suddenly, terrified of getting this wrong.

“Howdy!” Alex exclaimed, holding out a pair of earbuds instead of his normal headphones. He sat down with a sigh, looking right at home among all the blinking lights. “Figure this would be the easiest way to share.” He patted the floor beside him, and Caleb slid down to sit, giving him plenty of space.

“I don’t know what to sing,” Caleb said immediately. He wanted the disappointment, or the anger, to get out of the way quickly. But Alex just continued to smile.

“Aw, that’s ok, we can start with me then. And really,” he leaned towards Caleb, “I don’t mind just sharin’ my own stuff. I just think… you might appreciate my style more than the others do. It was made for singin’ along, too.” He handed Caleb an earbud before straightening up. “Ready?” he asked, and when Caleb nodded he pressed a button on his hand terminal, and some woman with a drawl like Alex’s began to sing about heartbreaks and midnight. It was a sad song, as were the next two that Alex played, about leaving and loneliness, and when Caleb looked at Alex his face was sad, the first time he had ever seen the man sad, though when he noticed Caleb looking the smile returned.

“Everyone’s got a few things to be sad about,” is all he said as the last song ended.

In the silence that followed, the part of the bargain that Caleb made came back to him, and he was alarmed. It felt like he had forgotten every single word of every song he had ever known.

“I’m sorry,” was all he said, and when he looked into Alex’s eyes his heart beat faster and suddenly he was crying, crying so much, inching away from Alex as the hands of every other man in his life swam into his vision violently. Alex was scrambling now, unsure as Caleb was about what was going on, trying to approach him cautiously but instinctively wanting to comfort him. Hey, it’s ok, it’s ok, he kept repeating, eventually settling on placing a hand on Caleb’s shoulder, lightly, so Caleb could still pull away if he wanted, but he didn’t want to, not really. 

Then it was Caleb’s turn to ramble: I’m so sorry, I fucked up, please, I’m so sorry, I’ll do better next time, don’t- he stopped at this last word because he did not want to saddle Alex with it. Don’t hurt me, he finally whispered as quietly as he could, and when he dared glance up at Alex he could see he was devastated by what he was hearing.

Caleb choked on his last few sobs and couldn’t look away from Alex, and Alex couldn’t look away from him. Before Caleb could apologize for what he had said, what he had implied, Alex said lowly, “What the fuck has happened to you?” He looked at the scar on Caleb’s face, touching a thumb lightly to the divot before remembering himself and pulling his hand away.

Caleb did not expect this. He expected Alex to be mad at him, but as Alex’s other hand raised up to rest on his other shoulder he knew that the pilot was genuinely concerned for him.

As he began slowly and haltingly laying out for Alex what had happened to him, he started crying hard again, and let Alex pull him in to his chest. He sat in Alex’s arms as he told him about all the bad men, all the abuse and violence, being traded between sexual predators like a toy rather than a person and being used and abused every time and finally, about how he had killed his last captor because of what he had done.

“He cut me, my thigh, five times, big cuts, deep,” he said between sobs. “Then he locked me in a room without food for three days, like they would a wild dog, to make it violent.” 

He touched where the scars were, ragged white flesh that still ached because the cuts were so deep. “When he let me out, after he fucked me as much as he wanted, I smothered him. And I left through the front door. You all picked me up a couple days after I landed on Tycho.”

After this he was quiet, unsure of what Alex would say because for now Alex was saying nothing. He was just holding on to Caleb, tight, and Caleb was pretty sure he was crying too but could not see his face. And Caleb welcomed this. He wanted desperately for someone to cry for him, since it had been so long since anyone had.

Alex pulled away, and he was done crying. Caleb had stopped too, his throat too raw to go on even if he wanted to. Alex put his hand, gently, on Caleb’s neck, and without thinking Caleb turned his face into his palm. He was warm, almost uncomfortably so after all the crying, but he closed his eyes and let Alex hold his head up. He was too tired to care about anything much right now. 

“I’m so fucking sorry, sweetheart,” he said, and that made Caleb look up. Sweetheart. Like the ship. It was said so gently that it cut right through to Caleb’s heart. As soon as their eyes met, Alex had to look away. Neither of them said anything else.

“We should try this again without the crying,” Caleb said into Alex’s palm, trying to be lighthearted, but when Alex looked back he still wasn’t smiling.

“Are you afraid of me?” Alex said, and as much as Caleb wanted to say no, the answer was yes. He was afraid of everyone, especially men, and he said as such. Even though he was here in Alex’s arms.

“I trust you more than I’ve trusted anyone in a long time,” Caleb said, and that at least got a little smile from Alex. “But it will probably be a long time before I’m not afraid.”

He lifted himself out of Alex’s arms, who let him go a little reluctantly. Hanging between them as they sat they held right hands, like a handshake. 

“Please let me try again,” Caleb said, afraid now of the silence rather than the man. “I can practice beforehand, I can do really good.” He paused. “I want to do this for you,” he said lowly, and for a second Alex’s eyelids flickered like he might cry again, and when he spoke his voice cracked.

“You don’t have to trust me,” he said. “You’ve been through hell and we’ve only known one another for a couple weeks. It’s ok to be afraid. It’s ok to cry, too.” His eyes roamed Caleb’s face. “I will promise you right now that I will never lay a finger on you, and I will not let anyone else on this ship either. And I know that’s a big promise and it’s a lot to trust, but I hope I can prove that I’m telling the truth.”

Caleb’s throat closed and all he could do was nod.

“I would like to see you again tomorrow. Is that ok?” Alex asked, and Caleb nodded again. Alex nodded, and neither of them knew what to say, so Alex stood and pulled Caleb up with him. Reluctantly, Caleb let Alex’s hand fall. He watched him the whole way as he climbed back up the ladder.

That night Holden called them all together for what he called a ‘family meeting,’ and when Caleb and Alex locked eyes they both smiled, warmly. Amos looked between the two of them, but kindly kept his mouth shut. 

Most of the conversation was just Holden and Miller arguing about what to do next, about how looking into Julie’s death and this ‘protomolecule’ was the most important thing they could do – but after some backing from Naomi and Amos, the whole crew decided to stick with the original plan: to do a few more jobs before going back to Tycho and Fred Johnson’s plans for good. They needed to look for the protomolecule, but they needed money to survive first.

They all fell into a comfortable rhythm after that, Holden (who insisted now that Caleb call him Jim) and Naomi dealing with most of the actual planning, Alex piloting and Caleb tinkering around in Engineering, Miller griping but at least pretending to be a good detective whenever a contract required some more finesse than the rest were capable of.

Caleb and Alex kept their music dates, trading ballads and filks like playing cards. Caleb took to singing folk songs in the rec room to soothe his nerves and usually just hoped he was singing late enough that nobody heard him do it. He could not sleep, his bedtime becoming 2 am, 3 am, 6 am if he was unlucky. Once, early on, Amos interrupted him just long enough to compliment him, then slid away like another wraith in the night. They did work, and work, and work. They sang, and sang, and sang.

At some point, Caleb didn’t even know what day it was anymore, he found himself sitting in the rec room with Alex, talking about music, talking about the safe subjects he allowed himself here in the open. In private, with Alex or Amos or Naomi and only sometimes Holden or Miller, he could talk about the darker things. Everyone knew at least the bones of his story now, and it was a relief to be open about it. But out here, where anyone could interrupt, he talked about food or film or music.

He was only vaguely aware of what Alex was saying. His arm was across the back of the crash couch, hand just close enough to Caleb’s head to make him blush, but he was heady with the last successful mission and didn’t even try to pull away. Alex rambled on, joking, making Caleb laugh, and all Caleb could see was Alex. He could sense nothing more than Alex, his whole field of view contracting until that’s all that was there: this man, talking passionately about old Earth country ballads, and new Martian ones that he said were better, hand close to his head.

Suddenly he looked to Caleb, and asked him his opinion. Caleb could not answer. He did not even know what they were talking about anymore. He was absorbed, suddenly and completely, into Alex’s dark eyes and convincing words and passionate dissertations. 

Caleb stood.

“I have to go now,” is all he said, just a little bit drunk on whatever shitheel whiskey Amos had managed to scrounge up, looking just a little too close into Alex’s face.

“Ah… you have to?” Alex asked. Caleb paused. He didn’t want to leave, not really; there was no reason for him to leave, not really.

Without meaning to he moved. He leaned forward, and kissed Alex.

Alex’s immediate response was to put his hand on Caleb’s neck, pulling him in, and Caleb did not want to fight it. They kissed deeply, passionately, and Caleb eventually recognized that this is what he had wanted for weeks now, months now.

Caleb was half on top of Alex, noticing the softness of him against Caleb’s hard boniness, and Alex was pulling him in, but when he came up for air his brain began to work again. 

He could not be here; he could not be doing this. He looked at Alex just a little sadly, but worry about the others seeing overrode his desire to kiss him again.

“I have to go,” he said again, still off kilter from Alex and his mouth. He pulled away. Alex offered only a little bit of resistance but his eyes followed him the whole time.

“See you tomorrow?” Alex said. A nonsensical question. Of course they would see each other tomorrow. Caleb nodded anyway.

Caleb ran away without really knowing where he was going, but he managed to make it to the gym without real incident. He was crying just the littlest bit, he hadn’t wanted to leave Alex, but he had to and he knew it. He sat on a weight bench, breathing too hard for only having gone down a few hallways.

When Amos spotted him through the door to the gym he stopped, and Caleb tried his best to get himself together. Amos walked in casually and dropped heavy onto the same bench. They sat facing one another for a little while before Caleb spoke.

“What does it feel like to love someone?” he asked, and Amos had the decency not to look shocked that this was the question he had chosen to ask.

“What are you feeling?” Amos asked

“It’s… deep down, in my heart, like an attack but I live through it. It hurts.”

“It does hurt, sometimes. But it’s not something that can really be described, I don’t think. It’s just a feeling that doesn’t feel like any other feeling.” Caleb was certain that Amos wouldn’t have been able to describe it even if he had been a more eloquent man, but he still understood what he meant all the same.

Caleb steadied his breathing. He put a hand up to his chest, felt where it hurt, pressed the tips of his fingers into his collarbone hard. This didn’t feel like any other feeling.

“He’ll figure out that I’m not worth it,” Caleb answered finally. “He’ll figure out that I’m too fucked up to be loved.” He did not specify who he was. He didn’t need to specify who he was. Who else could it be?

Amos looked anywhere but at Caleb for a while. “It’s ok to be broken,” Amos said eventually. “You just gotta find people that can hold you together again is all.”

Caleb looked up. Then at his own hands. Then pressed his fingers once more into his chest. He didn’t say a word as he walked away from Amos, to his quarters, laid down.

The next morning neither Alex nor Amos indicated that anything weird had happened the night before, and Caleb was ashamed enough to ignore it too. Alex piloted the Roci, 

Amos tottered around and fixed a couple little things, Caleb looked at ship readouts. Everything went smoothly. 

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

They all gathered together in the rec room one night, even Miller, to watch some film that Jim said was his favorite as a kid. The excuse was it was Jim’s birthday and he could make them do anything he wanted, and everyone accepted the chance to be together. 

More of the movie was spent making fun of it than paying attention to the plot, and after a brief grump about being disrespected, Jim joined in with the rest of them. Naomi and Jim were on one couch, holding hands and trying to pretend like they weren’t even though their relationship was both obvious and public; Amos and Miller were on another, passing terrible liquor between them and getting shittier and shittier about the movie the more shitfaced they got. Things had become somewhat awkward between Alex and 

Caleb since the last time they were in this room, but they sat together anyway on a couch behind the other two, and laughed at the others’ comments rather than making fun themselves. Alex put his arm across the back of the couch, just a normal little thing, but he was pressing just a little bit against Caleb’s shoulders, and Caleb pressing back. Thinking about it, him, the kiss, made Caleb blush, and he glanced over at Alex, and found him looking back. Alex winked and turned back towards the movie, shifting in his seat  
so that he was just a couple inches closer to Caleb.

Caleb shivered, and drew his legs up to his chest, wrapping himself in his arms. The air recyclers on the ship were very efficient, more efficient than most of Ceres’s by far, and the breeze they generated were made to cool a ship of fifty. In a ship of five it was enough to make Caleb cold most of the time, but he was still refusing to wear the Martian jumpsuits – they were uncomfortable and not shaped for anyone but a Martian to wear.

Alex turned just a little towards Caleb and then reached over almost absentmindedly to grab something off the floor, handing the lump to Caleb. He shook it out and found it to be a sweater, a dark cable knit one that Alex had abandoned there a few days before after they were done with their music lesson. Alex didn’t say anything, just watched the film, but he seemed more tense without much of a real indication. Caleb hugged the sweater to himself for a minute, unsure if he should put it on, unsure what kind of signal that would send to Alex or the others – but he was so fucking cold that it didn’t take too long before he put it on. It was too big and the sleeves too long but it was warm and it smelled just a little bit like cooking still, like fresh bread. He balled his fists into the ends of the sleeves and pressed his head back into Alex’s bicep, and heard Alex breathe out, like he had been holding his breath. The other four were too absorbed or too drunk to notice or care what the two of them were doing behind them. Caleb closed the gap between them and pressed his whole body into Alex’s soft side. He had never heard Alex be this quiet for this long before.

The movie ended and Amos suggested a second, and for another couple hours everyone was joyful, and then sleepy, and then the party dissipated slowly. When Holden called up the lights Caleb shot away from Alex with a quickness. He turned to thank Alex for his company.

“Of course, darlin’,” he drawled quietly, and nodded. Caleb’s heart raced and his ears were hot, and he followed the rest of them as they filed out slowly and left him lingering in the now-dark room. Caleb didn’t notice until he was back in his own room that he was still wearing the sweater.

His night was restless. Moments and meetings were piling up into a picture of something he had never experienced before, and didn’t know what to do about. Amos had said it was okay to be broken, but what if he was still too broken? His heart and his thoughts raced and when the quiet little alarm went off to wake him for his morning shift he had not yet slept. He sat up, exhausted, and gripped the edge of the bed.

He thought again about the protomolecule. Aliens had been discovered; Mars and Earth and the Belt were going to war. All he could think about was Alex, and a part of himself hated that. Another part, though, thought: But what can I do about aliens? What can I do about war? What can I do about anything, except accept these kind people and maybe love them. He was still having nightmares about Eros and the protomolecule, and really, that’s all that he could do about it was dream about it.

He dragged himself upright and slid into yesterday’s clothes, hand hovering above Alex’s sweater, unsure if he was allowed to put it on again. He almost walked away without it but pulled it on right before he left his room. If Alex wanted it back, he would ask. He hoped he didn’t ask too soon.

When he got to the galley the rest of them were there already and seated around the table, except Alex who was cooking. When he turned around and saw Caleb – and the sweater – he swallowed hard before offering a jittery “Mornin’,” and turning back to the fake eggs. The others didn’t say a word about Caleb but he was still over-nervous and quiet as the murmur of half-asleep conversation continued on around him. After Alex served up the fake eggs and real toast he sat across from Caleb, catching his eye and smiling absently while he joined in with the others’ morning discussion. 

Caleb took to wearing the sweater every day, only partially because he was cold anymore. Every time Alex saw him wearing it he smiled big and dumb and then had to look away before anyone caught him doing it, and Caleb didn’t smile so much as stare back and feel the ache in his chest that Amos said was normal. 

They continued in this way for a while, occasionally stopping off at Tycho and getting new marching orders from Fred Johnson and setting off again on some other small pirate-busting mission. They needed to go to some secret science station, Fred had said this last time, but the Tycho grunts were still working on a plan for that (so they weren’t destroyed by whatever defenses a black-ops science station had on offer) and Fred needed a pirate run down now. Caleb and Alex gently pulled each other into their orbits over and over but never quite got close enough.

Eventually Caleb ended up in the rec room again, alone for now, singing lowly to himself. Alex joined him after a little while, as he would on any normal night, and they both quieted down and searched for the right words. This place was becoming difficult for them to be in – or was being together, alone, the difficult thing?  
Alex looked at Caleb, dark eyes meeting dark eyes, and they both wanted to say something but neither of them could, for a minute.

“I’m not worth it,” Caleb said eventually, quietly, definitively. 

“You’re worth everything,” Alex said, without a second of hesitation. A beat of silence and then they were together and were kissing, deeply, this time Caleb was on top of him for real and Alex’s hands were on his back and pulling him close and Caleb could feel his fingers spreading across his spine, the pressure reassuring instead of threatening. Caleb was struck once again by how soft the man was, how different it was from any of the other men.

For a while they fumbled breathlessly and clumsily before Caleb put a hand on the couch and pressed them apart. He looked into Alex’s eyes, pupils big, and said, “Will you do me a favor?”

“What?” Alex asked, breathless.

“Fuck me.”

It had been so long since Caleb had been fucked kindly, softly, anything other than cruelly, and he let himself melt into it. Caleb barked at the ship to close the rec room door and she kindly obliged. Alex slid clumsily out of his suit and took Caleb’s suit after, and then his hands were softly on Caleb’s bare back and they were kissing like Caleb had never been kissed and fucking like Caleb had never fucked. Bodies pressed tight together and gasping, the feeling in Caleb’s loins spreading and he couldn’t think anymore, and Alex rode him until he came, and Alex soon after, and they collapsed together and breathed hard and Caleb felt himself trying to slip off into sleep.

“Come to bed with me,” Alex mumbled against his neck.

“What did we just do if it wasn’t going to bed?” Caleb asked, laughing.

“Come sleep in my bunk with me while I also sleep,” Alex enunciated, joking but only a little, and Caleb nodded. 

Alex went first out of the rec room, sliding sneaky down the halls to his own bunk, and without hesitation Caleb followed him. In Alex’s room they reconvened, slipping off the suits they had barely slid back on in the first place, and into the small hours they didn’t think about anything but each other. 

Alex’s hands found the scars on Caleb’s thigh, resting there just a moment before slipping away, but Caleb stopped Alex’s apology before he could get the words out. He moved 

Alex’s hand back and let it rest there, rolled over onto his back and let Alex see the rest of the scars, small but still painful, in the dim blue-white light of the bunk. Occasionally they both had to lay down and stretch out their aching joints.

Eventually, they slept.

A klaxon woke them up only a few hours after they fell asleep, and Alex fumbled clumsily for his clothes as Jim’s voice explained the apparently urgent situation through the comms. They needed to back-burn for a couple hours, they were getting too close to a Martian ship (though they didn’t know what kind of Martian ship) and Alex was needed at the pilot’s chair ASAP.

Alex slid with some difficulty into his coveralls, and Caleb tried to follow as quick as he could, and Alex was out the door and up the ladders with Caleb quick on his heels as he could be.

Caleb didn’t need to be up on deck but followed out of habit more than anything, and both Naomi and Jim were looking closely at their own terminals when they arrived on the command deck. Amos’s station was down in engineering where Caleb was technically supposed to be, and Miller would be in his room probably, strapped down in case things went sideways, and Caleb was at a loss. He looked around and saw the stations fully manned, and thought only a moment before he realized what he could do – make coffee for them all as they worked out the flight plan and started the burn, so that’s what he did rather than go get in Amos’s way.

A couple hours and too many g’s later Caleb was up on the pilot’s deck with Alex when he whooped and said the Martian ship was surrendering. Amos slid himself up the ladder now that the ship was stopped and gravity meant nothing, and clapped Naomi hard on the back. With glee Alex unstrapped himself from his chair and pulled Caleb close and they kissed, neither of them thinking past their relief. When they finally separated and Caleb made it down the ladder, three sets of eyes followed him. He looked at the three of them and they stared smirking back, and eventually from above Alex chimed in with a “Get ready for acceleration,” looking pointedly down but making no other move to explain anything. The other three nodded and Caleb slid down another ladder to the galley and the rec room. He was strapping himself into an out of the way couch when Jim’s voice filtered in from behind him. He strained to turn around.

“You wanna tell us anything?” Jim asked. He was heading towards a couch of his own, and close behind him were Naomi and Amos.

“If you can’t figure it out already maybe you shouldn’t be in charge,” is all Caleb said back.

The g’s settled out eventually and the four of them in their couches rattled to a relative standstill, more or less. Caleb, pure Belt, was grateful for the low-g burn that Jim had approved for them on the way back, towing the Martian ship behind them with remote drive control. He was busying himself in the galley when Alex came down finally.

“Away free and clear, nobody following, hoss,” he said cheerily, and Jim nodded. Alex got up close and personal with Caleb, and he knew why: he knew Alex didn’t mind the others knowing, knew they had in fact been seeing them together for weeks as they met to exchange music or just to sit and be in each other’s company and, it’s possible, kissing already. Caleb was standing right behind one of the tall chairs in the galley, hands gripping the back, knuckles white. Alex was right there behind him, one hand on Caleb’s shoulder and the other casually in his pocket. There was no point in hiding anything now, both of them knew.

“Listen,” Caleb said, tired. “I’m going to go back to Alex’s room and we will not be available for a few hours now, ok? 

Naomi nodded, but Amos and Jim just grinned, and Caleb decided that maybe dying to Martian gunfire was preferable to this.

Caleb pushed off the chair and headed down the hall, not checking to see if Alex was following him but sure that he would.

In the room they were in peace, briefly at least. Without discussion they peeled off their suits once more and slid in towards one another, and Alex’s fingers slid between Caleb’s legs. Alex was hard already and Caleb breathed out hard when he slid his cock inside him, and he was still so glad that he had chosen to work on the Rocinante.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Mornings on Navy ships were indicated by alarms rather than sunlight, but it was something that Caleb and every other Belter had gotten used to anyway – not having a big star or even windows to let you know meant everyone had alarms instead, even if their now-alien circadian rhythms told them mostly accurately when to wake and eat and sleep. On Navy ships, though, the alarms were mandatory since the smooth running of the ship required a smoothly running crew. That, and it was even harder to tell what time it was when everything but your own ship was pitch black and empty.

Alex, despite having been in the MCRN for twenty years, flung his arms up and over his eyes and ears, trying to muffle the sound. Amos had managed to hack the alarm system so that it was quieter now, since there were only six of them to wake up anyway and the ship essentially ran itself for days at a time. Caleb looked at Alex, who was groaning just loud enough to be heard, and smiled.

Alex’s head tipped towards him and he slid his arms down, and they were looking into each other’s eyes. Then Alex laughed, just a little.

“Do I look that bad in the morning?” Caleb whispered.

“You never look bad, not for a single minute,” Alex whispered back. A sleepy silence, post-alarm, descended for a moment.

“Why did you never ask for your sweater back?” Caleb asked after their moment of silence.

Alex’s eyes roamed Caleb’s face for a long time before he spoke. Caleb almost offered the sweater up willingly then, just to get Alex to stop – he was still unsure about being perceived as a human person.

“I just liked seeing you in it too much,” Alex said eventually, and Caleb’s heart pounded at the memory of Alex’s little grin whenever Caleb walked into a room.

Suddenly something in Alex’s face was shifting, subtly, and Caleb couldn’t quite figure out what it was but it activated his fight or flight response. His flight-or-cry response. He was about to roll off the bed and bolt but Alex’s next words pinned him down.

“Why me?” was all he said for a minute. Then, “I’m old and out of shape and a coward…”

“What the fuck?” Caleb yelled before Alex could finish. “You’re beautiful and you’re nice to me and every time I see you I want to yell about being happy and I want to spend every minute with you but don’t want to be weird…” He trailed off when he saw Alex’s face, his ever-broadening smile, the crinkles at the corner of his eyes, and he pressed his face just a little bit into the pillow to avoid Alex’s stare. 

“I think you’re worth everything,” Caleb whispered into the pillow, repeating Alex’s own words back to him. 

They stared at each other for a long time, half hidden and shy, before Alex pulled Caleb in for a kiss and Caleb pulled himself on top of Alex. When they emerged from Alex’s a couple hours later everyone else had already eaten and the leftovers were cold on the stove.

They only had a couple weeks to enjoy their ‘new romance’, which is what Alex insisted on calling it even though Caleb was still a bit unsure of exactly what he was feeling. Alex would call him darlin’ and sweetheart and Caleb just gave in and just stared at Alex as much as he wanted, and nobody stopped him, least of all Alex. And then they were back on Tycho for only a day before Fred Johnson finally sent them to the science station. The station was taken, and the mad scientist shot, and Jim and Miller were fighting, and neither Caleb nor any of the others knew what would send Jim or Miller into fits.

On Tycho, Caleb tried to ignore Jim’s anger as much as he could. Caleb very nervously asked Alex if he could room with him, and it delighted Alex so much that he picked up Caleb and spun him around, and Caleb could not stop laughing. Holden, when he wasn’t busy yelling about Miller, looked at them with so much love in his eyes that it made Caleb blush. He and Amos had taken to meeting in the gym on the Roci and later a gym on the Tycho main strip to work out, but mostly to talk. Amos had once said that he and Caleb were the same, and Caleb though that was true, but Amos also said that it was good that Caleb could still cry. Naomi showed him a lot more nuances to the engineering deck then he would have thought to look for, and then told him about her and Holden’s relationship, how it felt to be in love, and Caleb confided that it was how he felt, too.

There was no peace, after that brief respite. It was suddenly rushed and fretful and Holden refused to speak with Miller again until he was on the ships heading out to Eros before the Nauvoo and hurtling towards his own doom. On the other hand, Caleb refused to stop speaking to Miller, and visited him frequently while they were on Tycho, against Jim’s explicit command. It was the only time Caleb defied a direct order, and Jim didn’t actually do anything to punish him. Caleb saw a lot of himself in Miller too, just a broken man trying his best to fix himself far after it was too late. Miller told Caleb about his own sad story, his ex-wife, his job, the first time he ever killed anyone, he told Caleb more than he had ever discussed with the others, and Caleb formed a picture of Miller that he held close to his heart. A picture like Miller had of Julie, always there as a reminder.

The day before he left on his last shuttle ride, Miller handed Caleb his well-worn trilby hat. When Caleb took hold of the rim Miller didn’t let go, tugged it back towards himself, and dusted the hat off, fingers lingering on the fabric. Caleb did not rush him, did not want the moment to end, but finally Miller let go.

“Keep track of that for me, will you?” he mumbled with a crook of his mouth that was as much as he ever smiled. It felt too final. It was, it turned out, very final. It was the last time Caleb ever talked to Miller.

After Eros crashed into Venus – was strung out around Venus like a strand of terrible little pearls – Caleb cried for hours, for days. Alex, to his credit, sat with him whenever he wasn’t flying the ship, and never told him he should stop, leaving only when Caleb asked to be alone. Sometimes what had occurred, everything from Eros to the science station to Venus, overwhelmed Alex so much he sat and he shook and let out a few deep, hard sobs before collecting himself enough to fly. Naomi and Jim retreated into themselves and kept to themselves, and Caleb could barely care about that with the other weights hanging off his body as they were. Amos didn’t cry, Amos never cried, but he knew how to help pull everyone out of their darkest corners with a surgical precision that they all needed. With his help the five of them limped along like real people until they healed enough to function on their own. 

Fred Johnson sent them out on pirate scuttling missions like nothing had really happened, and they went without much complaint. There was nothing really to do right now except wait for the hearings about Phoebe station and the protomolecule to finish up, especially after having given their recorded statements about Eros, and the hearings were set to take months. Everything went back to normal, almost, but nothing was normal anymore and they all knew it.  
In the end it turned out that Amos was right: it’s okay to be broken, you just have to find people to hold you together. And the five of them held each other close and refused to let go.


End file.
